We'll Meet Again
by Azzamonkeyman
Summary: A lonely old man sits in his home on a little island as a storm rages outside. He refuses to leave his home of distant memories and broken dreams. The man could lose his life, but would he risk it to be with his mother again? . . .


**We'll Meet Again**

An old, grey, withered man is sitting in his arm chair in a dimly lit sitting room with a coal fire burning out slowly. The walls are covered with pictures in frames of different sizes, shapes and colours. The furniture is mismatched and the wallpaper is outdated and discolouring. Outside the window it is dark and a storm rages. The house is built on a small island with a rocky bottom. The sea batters the jagged outline of the island. The mans house is the only structure on the small piece of land stranded in the sea. An old wooden bridge connects the small island and the mainland. The sea is raging down in the mist below and waves smash up the rocks and splash through the bitter air. The thunder is echoing in the clouds and the lightning is glowing in streaks that stretch down towards the small village on the mainland. The wind is blowing at gale force and is rocking the once steady wooden bridge. The old man twists and turns in his chair, dreaming of a time long ago.

"Keep up mummy!" The little boy shouted as he ran through a flowery meadow on a sunny day. The little boy is young and fit. His hair auburn and his cheeks pink. His face is smiling and his eyes are blue and full of joy. The women chasing after him is tall and elegant. She was wearing early 1900s clothing and is holding an umbrella. Her hair is tied up in a bun under her wide summer hat; however strands of red hair continue to trail out behind her as she runs behind the little boy. "You know I'm no good at running in this dress, Timmy!" She shouted to him in laughter. He was already far off in the distance trailing through the tall grass, much taller than him. Timmy kept running, giggling happily, his hands streaming through the soft flowers and blades of green surrounding him like a beautiful ocean of emerald. Eventually she catches him and rolls onto the grass with her son. She reaches into her pocket and brings out a little toy bear. "This bear is called Mr Lovely. He is . . . lovely!" the little boy laughed and waved to the little bear. "I want you to have him, and for as long as I live you will look after him wont you?" She handed him the fuzzy, golden bear and kissed him gently on the forehead. He nodded and said, "I promise I will look after him like you look after me."

The window slams open and an almighty gust of wind tears into the room. The curtains billow wildly and ornaments fall over, smashing on the floor. The old man jumps up in shock. He gazes at the room in which he sits. The powerful blasts of wind are terrorising the room. He gets up, using every ounce of strength left in his weak body, and walks over to the window, pushing through the strong gale force winds. Finally he reaches the window. He closes it over, bolting it shut. He turns round and looks at the broken ornaments on the floor. Bending over feebly he picks up the head of a shattered little porcelain woman. Staring sadly into the little painted blue eyes, he suddenly felt a sharp pain.

The town square was quiet that day. After all it was Sunday. Most people were in church or in bed at this time, but not Timmy and his mother. They were walking hand in hand down the street, moving out the way of a horse drawn coach. "I'm hungry." Timmy moaned. His mother laughed at him and answered, "There's a little café just round the corner, we can have some lunch in there." Timmy smiled widely. He knew the café and he loved to go there. He let go of his mother's hand and skipped along the path ahead of him. His mother chuckled merrily at the sight of her son, already going in the direction of the café. Just then, as she walked past a shop window, a shimmer of light caught her eye. In the shop window of the Antique shop was a little porcelain woman with beautifully painted blue eyes, wearing a swirling pale blue dress. "Timmy, come here for just a second." She said to her son, who was already at the door of the café. He walked over, wondering what she wanted. "Here are 5 shillings. I would like you to go and buy that little ornament in the shop window. Just ask the nice old man to get it down for you." Timmy nodded and skipped into the shop. His mother leaned into the shop and finally said, "Remember to say please and thank you, and do not bump into anything." She smiled happily as Timmy bought the porcelain woman with the pretty blue eyes.

He pulled a sharp piece of porcelain from his leg. The cut wasn't big, but it was bleeding quite heavily at the moment. The rain was falling even harder now. It sounded as if it was going to smash through the window. The old man walked over to the burnt out fire, wrapping a strip of cloth around his wound, and added a few more lumps of coal. Blowing onto the dim embers of orange and red and after adding several old newspapers he managed to get a small fire going. He looked at the headline of one of the papers and gasped in horror. He grabbed it quickly, burning his hand and laid it on the floor. The corners were burnt and the centre of the newspaper article was blackened slightly. However it was lucky that it had survived over 9 decades of lying in a box and gathering dust. The date of the paper was "**October 16****th**** 1910**". The headline read "**Suffragettes cause havoc in Town Square.**"

"Votes for women!" screamed the crowds of ladies wearing the green, white and purple attire of the Suffragettes. As they marched through the streets they waved signs that read the exact same as what they were shouting. "Votes for Women!" One woman suddenly picked up a brick and threw it through a window, shattering the glass. Timmy dodged in and out between the women. He pushed through the mobs of cheering women until he saw the angelic face of his mother. "Mummy! Mummy!" He shouted over the noise. She was cheering with the women and waving one of their signs. "Mummy, over here!" Timmy yelled, waving his arms. His mother looked down and gasped in shock. "Timmy! What are you doing out of the house!" She asked, almost angrily. Timmy and his mother were being pushed along with the sea of suffragettes as they spoke. "I heard all this noise and then I saw your hat!" His mother ran over and scooped him up, squeezing through the people in the street. She got out into the empty sidewalk and sat him down on a bench. "Timmy, you know that I'm doing this for a reason don't you?" Timmy nodded solemnly. "And I would never do anything to break the law." Timmy nodded again, looking down at the pavement. "Look at me, Timmy." She put a finger on his chin and gently lifted his face upwards. They stared into each others eyes lovingly. "I love you Timmy. You know that don't you?" Timmy nodded and said, "I love you very much too Mummy." He then looked down at the pavement sadly, trying to ignore the riots of the suffragettes on the road behind his mother. "Whatever's the matter Timmy?" He was silent. "Timothy!" His mother said sternly. He looked over her shoulder at the crazed women with a cause and answered, "I don't want you to be one of them Mummy. It looks dangerous." His mother leaned forward and suffocated him in a huge cuddle. He felt so safe in his mother's arms. The flowery smell of her perfume and the softness of her red hair comforted him immensely. "Well darling, if you want me to stop then I will. Even if it means moving away from England altogether to get away from all suffragettes, then I will do that. I promise."

The old man picked up the newspaper and sat it back in the box with the rest of the newspapers. He flicked through them and stopped at one near the bottom. The date read "**April 16****th**** 1912**" and the headline was "**The ****Titanic sinks in less than 3 hours - 700 saved - 1500 feared dead.**" He sighed as he looked at the picture of the majestic ship sailing through the sea and then the artist's impression of the ship sinking into the dark sea with people jumping from her sloping decks and small lifeboats being tossed around in the huge waves.

"Come on Timmy!" shouted his mother through the crowd at Southampton dock, the Titanic standing high above her. She had 2 tickets to board 2nd class. Timmy ran over to her and smiled widely as he looked at the enormous vessel waiting to set sail, her tall funnels billowing smoke high into the air. All of her decks and salons and windows were filled with people waving to loved ones who they were about to leave behind on their voyage. His mother was talking to several of her friends who were coming with her from England to Ireland. They were all wearing clothes like his mothers. Long dresses that went in tight around the ankles and neat coats with large broaches and wide hats adorned with feathers and flowers. "This ship is just marvellous!" One of the women cheered, clapping her hands giddily. "Oh indeed! They say she's unsinkable." The other one remarked. Timmy's mother laughed and said, "Well, they'll be laughing if she sinks on her maiden voyage!" They all laughed together. Timmy smiled at the sight of his mother having fun with friends. Then they all turned and headed into the "Unsinkable" Titanic.

The voyage lasted a day or so and then the ship came to stop at Queenstown, Ireland, where he and his mother and 2 of her friends would depart. A smaller ship was ferrying people from Titanic over to the mainland because the ship was too large to dock next to the land. The ship was so marvellous and beautiful. Timmy was sad to leave it now, after only a day. Timmy's mother had even made a new friend who was going to be departing in New York in a few days. Timmy and his mother got onto the ferryboat and sailed towards Ireland, waving goodbye to the Titanic. A man with a camera tapped Timmy's mother on the shoulder and asked, "Would you like a photo taken? You look like a model!" He winked an eye. She blushed and said, "Oh alright then, since you're so kind." She smiled and held Timmy's hand as the cameras bulb exploded in a flash of white light. Behind them the Titanic began to turn and sail away.

The old man gazed out of the window, astonished by the size of the waves pounding the cliff face around his house. He went back to his chair and sat down, feeling tired again. He tried to ignore the sound of the tiles on his roof being blown off and the shutters on his windows rattling and breaking apart in the powerful winds

Timmy's mother sat in the kitchen of their new home in Ireland, on the small Island in the middle of the ocean. A wooden bridge joined their house to the mainland. His mother had her head in her hands and was sobbing. Timmy walked in quietly, wondering what was wrong. "What's the matter mummy?" He asked her with concern. She sat upright immediately and dried her eyes with a tissue that was up her sleeve. She picked up her son and sat him on her knee. She turned over the days newspaper and read out the headline. "**The ****Titanic sinks in less than 3 hours - 700 saved - 1500 feared dead.**" Timmy looked at the picture of the sinking Titanic. "I was on that boat! Why is some of it underwater?" He asked curiously. His mother replied, "The boat we were on was sailing to New York once we left it, and as it was sailing it hit a big lump of ice and the ice scratched a hole in the bottom of the boat." Timmy nodded, understanding the explanation. "Lots of water began coming into this hole and the boat started to disappear into the sea." Timmy thought back to the masses of people he had seen on the ship on his few days of the voyage. "What about all the people on the boat? Are they okay?" His mother put her hand over her mouth as tears began to fill her eyes. "Well Timmy, they didn't all make it. The water was too cold for the people that weren't saved. They died, Timmy."

Every window was shaking due to the gusts of wind. The front and back door were rattling profusely. The ceiling was leaking through-out the house and the bridge was wobbling as if it was a rope bridge instead of a solid, sturdy wooden bridge. He put buckets and pots under the leaking spots. The storm wasn't going to die out any time soon.

Suddenly there was a loud knock on the door. Timmy's mother was with her 2 friends in the living room. She asked to be excused and answered it, dusting the ornaments and furniture happily as she went. She opened it, dropping the feather duster immediately, gasping in shock. "Hello Marge!" A gruff voice bellowed from the door. Her friends continued to chat in the living room, oblivious to the man at the door. Timmy was in the kitchen playing with building blocks. He stacked them up and knocked them over, then stacked them up again and drove one of his toy cars into it, giggling loudly each time at the falling bricks. "Why are you here?" He heard his mother say crossly. "I told you not to bother us ever again Tom." Then, just as she began shutting the door a large hand jolted forward and held the door open. Timmy looked up in fright as a heavy built man pushed past his mother and walked into the hallway. The 2 women in the living room stood up and went to the doorway to see what was happening. "I just thought I would come and see you both." Timmy pushed his toys behind the cupboard, hiding them from the strange man. Timmy's mother ran over to Tom and whispered into his ear, "Don't tell him who you are. Please Tom. I'm begging you. He'll be so confused." Tom pushed her away with his shoulder and walked over to Timmy. He kneeled down and looked at the boy, smirking wildly. The 2 women went over to Timmy and put their arms around him protectively. Timmy backed away slightly from Tom. "Hello Timmy." He said in an intimidating manner. "Who are you?" Timmy asked, feeling wary. "Who am I?" He snarled, "I'm your Daddy!"

The old man sat down in his chair. The wind howled outside in the darkness and the rain was growing heavier. Rocks had begun falling from the cliff face and splashing into the sea below. The waves were tidal waves now. Soon they would be tsunamis. Then, just as the old man was about to drift to sleep in the soothing rhythm of the rain, there was a loud knock at the door. The old man jumped up, forgetting about his injured leg, and groaned with pain. He limped over to the door and unbolted it. There were many locks and bolts on the door, most of them very old, at least 80 years old, but they were still quite strong. He unbolted them all and opened the door. In the darkness he could see a group of people wearing huge thick jackets with hoods up and back packs bulging behind them. The rain flooded down on them like a water fall. It would be wrong to call them rain drops, more like rain waves. "Hello Timmy!" One of them shouted over the sound of the raging ocean around them. The old man waved grumpily and said, "Hi, what the hell do you want?" They all looked at each other in confusion and then looked at the disastrous weather around them. "We're evacuating everyone from the coast and the mainland into the higher parts of the land for safety reasons." Timmy scrunched up his face and put a hand outside the door, feeling the down pour. "It's just spitting lad. You're wasting your time. I'm not leaving." The group all laughed, thinking he was joking. There was a long silence. He was serious.

A smashing of glass came from downstairs and then there was a scream. Timmy ran downstairs. He was 12 years old now. His father was pinning his mother against a wall and holding a smashed glass bottle to her neck. "You'll give me that money you fucking bitch or I'll shove this right through your neck!" Timmy's mother sobbed uncontrollably in the powerful grip of this monster. She had two black eyes and a burst lip. Years of physical abuse had worn her out and damaged her beautiful face. "Let mummy go!" Timmy yelled in terror. His father turned round in surprise and threw the bottle towards Timmy. It smashed above him on the wall. Timmy ducked just in time. His father knocked over the table and threw a kettle out of the window. Timmy's mother Margaret screamed at him "Get out of my house you bastard!" She grabbed a chair and whacked it over his head, knocking him over. He fell onto the floor and just when he was about to get back up she grabbed a hot frying pan and smashed it over his face repeatedly. The blood splattered out of his nose and mouth and covered her apron. Timmy watched in horror as his mother attacked his father, but Timmy was glad. She was getting revenge for years of hurt and pain.

"You can't stay here Timmy! The land that your house is on is falling apart as we speak, and that bridge probably won't hold up any longer. You need to get out!" Timmy shook his head. The group sighed, not knowing what to do to budge him. All of a sudden there was a violent shudder as the ground shook beneath them. The sea exploded around them as enormous rocks crumbled into the water. "I'll leave, but in my own time. If you go now I'll meet you all over there in 10 minutes. I promise." The group smiled with relief. The woman at the back of the group went up on her tip toes and said, "Please hurry Timmy! Join us over there in 10 minutes sharp!" Timmy nodded and waved them goodbye as they ventured off the land and over the bridge. He closed the door and locked it again. There was no way he would leave this house.

A 30 year old Timmy sat in the kitchen of his home, his mother sat in the chair opposite him. "I hear that war might be breaking out Timmy." His mother declared. "I suppose you'll need to fight." Her face sank. He shrugged his shoulders, setting down the newspaper. "I dunno, I suppose I might have to, but hopefully it won't be as bad as the last war." His mother looked over at the door warily, checking all of the locks that had been put on about 20 years earlier, after she managed to attack her abusive ex-husband and get the locals to get him out of Ireland. Her hands were shaking. "But what if…" Timmy put a hand on hers. She looked away from the door and into his handsome face. His hair was dark and his eyes were blue. He had strong facial features. He had grown so much since they moved to Ireland. "He won't come back. The Irishmen around here made sure of that. If he ever steps foot onto a boat and tries to make his way over here then he'll be arrested." His mother nodded happily. "And besides, Paddy put all of those locks on the door for protection. If he gets to the house he won't be able to get in." She nodded again and looked up at her son. She was so lucky to have him. She stood up and walked over to the wall in the living room. A picture of her and her husband in their better days hung on the wall. She took the picture from the frame and tore it in half, throwing the half with Tom in it onto the coal fire.

An old and quite tired Timmy got onto his mothers rocking chair and rocked back and forth peacefully. He looked at the pictures on the wall. The first picture he looked at was a picture of his mother and him on there first day in Ireland next to the ferry with the Titanic sailing away behind them. Below that was a picture of his mother and her Irish friend Paddy standing next to the house. Next to that, a picture of the bridge connecting their house to the mainland being built. Below that was a picture of Timmy in his WW2 soldier's uniform. Across the wall was half a picture showing Timmy's mother wearing an elegant wedding dress. Someone's arm can be seen next to her, but Timmy tried not to think whose arm it was. Under that picture was a picture of Timmy and his mother in England before they moved to Ireland. His mother is wearing her purple, green and white Suffragette dress. Of course the picture is in black and white so Timmy cannot not enjoy the vibrant colours of that bygone era. Next to that picture was a photo of Timmy's mother with her 2 friends who went to live in the mainland of Ireland, but stayed friends with Margaret til the end of their days.

It was a sunny day, but quite windy. Perfect weather for drying clothes on the washing line. Margaret was hanging out clothes while Timmy, who was back from fighting in the war, was making a cup of tea for his mother. "How many sugars do you take Mum? It's been a while since I've made you a cuppa!" He called out the window. He looked out and saw his mother chasing after a towel that had blown away in the wind. She ran after it, laughing and giggling as the towel ran away from her. It reminded him of a memory he had from when he was very young, back in England, when his mother and him were in a flowery meadow and she was chasing after him. Her laugh had never changed in all those years, even if her looks had. Her red hair had gone grey and her smooth flawless face was still beautiful but wrinkles were beginning to show. Timmy walked out of the kitchen and into the garden. The garden was big, as it was the entire area of grass on this rock in the ocean. Just then a sudden gust of wind rushed past him and blew over the land. His mother was standing near the edge. She grabbed the towel and looked at her son smiling. He waved at her, and at that moment the wind gave an almighty gust and Margaret fell backwards, rolling once and falling off the edge of the rock. She screamed as she plummeted. Timmy ran forward, in a desperate attempt to dive in after her, but it would do no good. There was a long stretch of grass to run across before he could even get to the edge of the rock. His mother fell and hit off of the rocks below as she descended. The screaming soon stopped and a loud splash echoed through the air. Timmy got to the edge and looked down at the white rings in the water where his mother had landed. His mother was gone.

Timmy was drifting off to sleep at this point. He gazed at the more recent photos on the wall next to him. There were photos of his friends and him at the pub and on the golf course. There were photos of him in different places around the world doing different things. He had enjoyed a full and lively life. He never married, but did meet a girl once upon a time, and a little picture of the 2 of them holding hands in Blackpool was framed in a silver love heart. Her name was Sally and she was a wonderful girl, but they began drifting apart over time and one night he woke up alone in bed to find a note on the table which read,

"I'm so sorry, but I have dreams away from Ireland, and you're holding me back. It's not my fault that you refuse to leave the Island. Love always, Sally x."

As the funeral hearse slowly drove into the town, rows and rows of people lined the streets, sobbing and all wearing black, throwing red roses onto the car carrying the coffin. Timmy stood by the bridge on the mainland that the hearse would soon drive by. He struggled to hold in the tears as he saw the word MUM made with little flowers in the vehicle. The town was silent and watched in sorrow as Timmy witnessed the funeral hearse approaching him. As it drove by, covered with roses Timmy slowly put out a hand and placed Mr Lovely on top of the black car. "You wanted me to have him, and for as long as you lived I looked after him." He kissed his hand and placed it onto the car as tears began to stream down his face. "I promised I would look after him Mum, like you looked after me."

It was impossible to hear yourself think over the sound of the wind and rain outside. Timmy closed his eyes and turned on his radio. His favourite song began to play. _"__We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when, but I know we'll meet again some sunny day-__"_ The song echoed throughout the empty house of memories and broken dreams. Of sorrow and joy. Of life and death. Just then the wind beaten bridge outside broke apart and fell down towards the sea. The lights in the house began to fade on and off. Timmy sat back and relaxed. The ground outside the house on the little land in the middle of the sea began to separate and the rocks around the little land began to crumble and fall down towards the darkness like an avalanche. The house began to creak and groan as the ground beneath it broke apart as if there was an earthquake. The floor tiles began to smash and the ceiling began to come down above the old man. The colossal waves from the ocean pounded the house repeatedly as the land crumbled down and fell to pieces. Timmy closed his eyes and ignored the sound of the destruction surrounding him. Suddenly the windows smashed and water came surging into the room washing the furniture aside. Timmy took a deep breathe as the music faded away and the water engulfed him. The land disappeared into the sea along with the house. The lights finally extinguished in the house and the sea erupted into a terrifying display of debris from Timmy's home. The land was gone. The house was gone. Timmy was gone.

"Keep up mummy!" The little boy shouted as he ran through a flowery meadow on a sunny day. The little boy is young and fit. His hair auburn and his cheeks pink. His face is smiling and his eyes are blue and full of joy. The women chasing after him is tall and elegant. She was wearing early 1900s clothing and is holding an umbrella. Her hair is tied up in a bun under her wide summer hat; however strands of red hair continue to trail out behind her as she runs behind the little boy. "You know I'm no good at running in this dress, Timmy!" She shouted to him in laughter. He was already far off in the distance trailing through the tall grass, much taller than him. Timmy kept running, giggling happily, his hands streaming through the soft flowers and blades of green surrounding him like a beautiful ocean of emerald. Eventually she catches him and rolls onto the grass with her son. "I knew that I could catch up with you Timmy. It took a while but we've made it." She said joyfully. A tear came to the little boy's eye and he took her hand, saying, "It's been too long Mummy. You should never have been looking for me for that long. I'll never leave you again. I love you." His mother began to cry and she embraced her son in a huge hug. Just then, she leaned back and went into her pocket, bringing out a little fuzzy, golden bear, "Look who I have!"

"_We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when, but I know we'll meet again some sunny day-"_


End file.
